


Proposals

by ArcticFantasy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticFantasy/pseuds/ArcticFantasy
Summary: Queen Sansa receives unwelcome marriage proposals from all over the Seven Kingdoms.  And one proposal she would welcome from beyond does not come.





	1. A Child Groom

              A year into her reign, Queen Sansa was welcoming her Uncle Edmure and his wife to an extended visit to Winterfell.  Although, in truth, she thought the man a bit of a fool she was greatly enjoying his stay.  Roslin Tully was a sweet and charming woman.  Their young son, Robb, was delightful and Sansa had greatly enjoyed playing with him.  And her Uncle Edmure happily shared stories of her mother from childhood.  They had stayed up half the night in her solar talking of her mother. 

              Jon was also visiting and, although the two had an initially frosty greeting, they were now deep in their cups talking of Robb.  Edmure had seemingly limitless stories of Robb’s daring on the battlefield.  Jon typically hated war stories, still too painful a reminder of his own experiences, but he warmed to hear of Robb.  But now Edmure was speaking of his own victory over Tywin Lannister.

              “Robb was furious.  As my punishment I was forced to marry some hideous daughter or grand-daughter of that troll Walder Frey.”  Edmure drunkenly finished as he grabbed Roslin and sat her on his lap.  Roslin laughed at the abrupt grab and rolled her eyes gently, for she had obviously heard him tell this tale before.  “And for all that was lost that night I can never regret losing that battle or gaining that wife.”  He said while pressing a kiss to her cheek.  Roslin blushed prettily. 

              “That brings me to my next topic.”  Edmure said seriously in his drunkenness.

              “Edmure, no.”  Roslin warned softly.

              “Marriage is important.  One can’t just go through life alone, niece.  You need someone to share the burden of rule and the joys of life!” 

              Jon shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Sansa peered into her cup.  The topic of marriage had been constant since the moment she had put on her crown. 

              “Can’t she have one night of peace with her family?”  Jon warned with a growl.  Giants had quivered at that tone of voice.  But Edmure was too lost in his cups and his arrogance to pay it any heed. 

              “She can have an eternity of peace with her family if she would only listen!  I have a proposal for you, Queen Niece.” 

              “You are already happily married.  And my uncle.”

              “No! Not me!”  Edmure sputtered with disgust at the prospect of marrying his own niece.  “I mean your cousin, Robb.  It’s a perfect match.”

              “He’s four!”  Sansa cried as Jon broke out in a wide grin.

              “Now, Sansa.  I think you should hear the man out.  He is your kin and a wise Lord with experience beyond your years.”  Jon interjected barely concealing a laugh.

              “Thank you, King Wildling.”  Edmure responded oblivious to Jon’s mocking tone.  “I am glad you are here to speak reason to the Queen.  Now, first of all, Robb will be five and he is a bonny lad.  Second of all, of course you’d have to wait ten years or so to marry.  But is not the right match worth waiting for?”

              “So, I would be a woman of thirty marrying a lad of four and ten?” 

              “Kings do such things all the time!  Why make yourself less than them? Answer me that!”

              “I have no answer to any of this, uncle.” 

              “Aye, you are coming around to reason, I see. Now thirty is still well within childbearing age.  So, no worry there.  King Robb II of the North and Riverlands has a nice ring to it does it not?”

              “I have no wish to add the Riverlands to my kingdom.”  Sansa said.

              “You are bordering on treason, Lord Edmure.  Be careful.”  Jon spoke over her as the amusement dropped from his voice.  “If King Bran’s council suspected you wished to join your lands to the North…”

              “No, no, no.  No one wants to risk war. It’s just a proposal.  Northing more!  And I can sweeten the deal!”

              “How can it get any sweeter than this?”  Sansa asked. 

              “The Twins.”  He said with a self-satisfied smirk.  And, suddenly, Sansa sat up straight.

              “What do you mean by that?”  She asked seriously.

              “I haven’t allotted them to anyone, yet.  It is my right to do so.  I will give them to my son now through his mother.  When you marry…” 

              “We’ll discuss this in the morning… or more likely mid-afternoon when we are all sober.”  Sansa said with finality in that moment every bit the Queen.  Even Edmure listened and changed topic. 

              Late that evening, Jon burst into her chambers, as she knew he would.  Brienne would never have let him through the door.  But these Northern guards still saw Jon as their hero of the Battle Against the Dead, even if in truth that title belonged to Arya.  They would never stand against him. 

              She was dressed only in her shift and fought the urge to reach for her robe.  A quick look up and down the length of her body before respectfully returning, and staying, at her eyes was her reward.   

              “You can’t seriously consider this offer.” 

              “The Twins! I could control the entrance to the North, Jon.  Never again could some troll with a bridge hold a king or queen from the North hostage to his whims.” 

              “You’d be marrying a child, Sansa.”

              “I’d be marrying a teen in ten years’ time.”   

              “And until then?”

              “Ten years without a man bothering me sounds quite nice.”  She said attempting a jest.

              “Does it, Sansa?”  He asked quietly in that deep voice that unnerved her.  For long moments they stood looking at each other.  Neither daring to turn away.  But, finally, he broke and turned his back to her.  “Do what you want.  You always do.  Trade yourself away to a buffoon’s toddler to gain a small piece of land.  It’s none of my concern.” 

              Rage flowed through her and in that moment she almost marched to Edmure’s rooms to accept his proposal just to spite Jon.

              But when the next day came she respectfully declined his offer. 


	2. Lady of Highgarden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets a very well off suitor.

The lone horseman approached Winterfell late at night when the Queen should have been long since abed. But Sansa rarely slept before the wee hours of the morn and her guards saw fit to intrude for this visitor. 

“Your grace, Master of Coin and representative of King Brandon is at the gates seeking an urgent audience.” 

Sansa felt a brief panic rising in her. Her first thought that two years into his reign her brother had finally lost his life be it by assassins’ knife or headman’s axe. Three eyed raven or not he was still a Stark man in the south. But she took a second to think before responding. Why would they send a Master of Coin to deliver that message? And she felt deep in her bones that Bran would send her some message if he were in trouble. A flock of ravens or one of those unnatural dreams. 

“I am going to bed. Tell him I will see him in the morning.” Sansa responded. Not willing to allow the south to dictate her schedule. 

“No, your grace, I think you’ll see me now. I have an offer I think you’d like to hear.” A voice came from the door. Immediately her guards had their swords at his throat. And Sansa briefly considered allowing them to rid her of this nuisance. 

“No, let him in. We will speak. Stay inside at the door.” 

Sansa recognized the man before her and did nothing to conceal her laugh. Yes, she had received word that Lord Bronn of Highgarden had been made Master of Coin but she hadn’t been able to place the name with a face before now. The last time she saw this man he was a drinking companion of her then Lord Husband, Tyrion Lannister. 

“Tyrion made you Master of Coin?” She asked derisively. The fool had immediately begun elevating his whoring companions. 

“Aye, he sees value where it lays.” He responded and then gave her an appraising look up and down. “I knew you’d grow up to be a beauty. I thought Tyrion a fool for not claiming you when he got the chance.” 

“I’m sure you did. What business has brought you to the North, Lord Bronn.” 

Immediately the man got to one knee before her. Head briefly bowed before lifting it to give her a sly grin. 

“I come with an offer I don’t think you can refuse, your grace.” 

“And what is that?” 

“Myself.” He said proudly.

Sansa understood immediately and sighed. 

“I think refusing might be easier than you imagine, my lord. If that is all I wish to go to bed.” She stated and upon seeing the look on his face added “Alone.” 

“You reject me too swiftly. I am Lord of Highgarden now. Most important lord of the land, by my reckoning.” 

“Most important lord of your land. That is meaningless here.” 

“I think coin is important no matter the land. I have coin. You need coin. We can make a deal.” 

Sansa looked at him still kneeling on the floor and motioned for him to rise. She went over to grab the pitcher of wine and poured them both cups. Gesturing for him to sit as she did so herself. 

“So, you offer a dowry for yourself? Typically, that is for the woman to provide. And what is in it for you?” 

“Well, I will have a beautiful wife who is being well preserved in this cold.” 

“I have received many warnings from my brother’s council to not marry south of the Neck without their express permission. They fear my making political alliances that would hurt them. You would find yourself in a great deal of trouble with your king and his men.” 

“I served those Lannister twats and they promised me a castle. Which I got. I had to get it at the end of an arrow but I got it. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. But what else do they have to offer me? They can’t make me a king. You can. King of this frozen layer of the seven hells is better than Lord.” 

“And Highgarden?” 

“They can try to take it from me. They’ll regret it. I’d come here and do my duty by you. Get you with pups. Wear a pretty crown. And spend the rest of my time in my keep.” 

“And this coin you promised. It would flow from Highgarden to the North? I thought its coffers had been thoroughly looted by Jaime Lannister.”

“Well, it’s only traditional for Master of Coin to take a little off the top when collecting taxes and such. It’s the way these things operate.” Bronn leaned forward with a conspiratorial wink.

“Yes, I know all about Masters of Coin and how they operate, my lord.” 

Sansa leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine. Sifting this offer through her mind. In truth, it was one of the better ones she’d received of late. She leaned forward and stroked Bronn’s hand with her own. 

“And what next, Lord Bronn.” She asked in a husky voice as her hand stroked his forearm. For a moment he looked flustered.

“Next, my Queen?” 

“Well, you and I would be King and Queen in the North but that can’t be the limit of your ambitions can it? This broken, cold kingdom?” 

“Well, I haven’t thought that far ahead. But real men don’t like following a cripple. It’s not natural. They like to follow men who can fight and fuck. And beautiful queens from noble lines who they can imagine fucking.”

“And you can fight and fuck?” 

“Both of those things happen to be my specialty. And you already have the title Queen. And kin in the Vale and the Riverlands. If a cripple can be king anyone can. Together who could stop us?” 

“You should finish your wine, Lord Bronn. It’s an excellent vintage. Gifted me by Tyrion Lannister, himself.” She said. 

“What better way to commemorate this arrangement.” He responded and drained his cup. “Well, I can think of one better way.” 

“Arnulf! Watt! Escort Lord Bronn of Highgarden to our dungeons.” She called out to her guard. 

For a moment, shock finally made the man shut up. But only for a moment. He immediately began to protest and shouting threats. 

She sat at her desk and wrote out a letter. 

To Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Hand of the King,  
I have your sellsword in my dungeons. He plots treason against my brother, the king, and seeks my hand in marriage. What’s worse, he talks entirely too much. Please send men to retrieve him at your earliest convenience.  
Your Former-Wife,  
Sansa 

She would give it to Maester Wolkan to send on the morrow. Or, mayhaps, sometime later in the week. Sansa saw no harm in letting the lord sit in her dungeons for a time before the south sent for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Jon and Sansa in this one but I wanted to show the caliber of Sansa's suitors.


End file.
